The Eight-Pointed Star by Tyelca

Day 4 - Caranthir

Fëanorian Week is already over, but nonetheless a chapter for the fourth son of Fëanor: Caranthir. The prompts were Childhood, Betrayal, Lordship, Dwarves & Humans, Marriage, Appearance.

Summary: Caranthir the Dark settles in Thargelion and meets first Haleth and later Ulfang.

Characters: Caranthir, Haleth, Ulfang the Black

Warning: None

They call him the Dark almost from the moment they set foot in Beleriand. The title is neither complimentary nor meant as an insult; it simply is. His hair is a notable shade darker than that of the rest of the Noldor and so is his mood, but darkness has not overtaken his heart. This is a lesser known fact, and Caranthir prefers to keep it that way.

Thargelion is a wild land, even more so than the western regions of Beleriand, populated only by the Casari in their mountainous halls when Caranthir settles there. While keeping distance at first, he soon grows to like the folk of Aulë, for they are keen of eye and clever, and share a stubbornness that Caranthir recognizes and appreciates. It is from them that he first hears about a mortal race that has awakened East of the Mountains; while not particularly interested in Humans, he keeps his ears open for rumors nonetheless.

He grows fond of the Khazâd and soon trade is set up between their people, and Caranthir often meets with their lords; they teach him some words in their private language and Caranthir recognizes the trust they gift him with, and returns it by telling the truth about their departure from Aman, for they have inquired as to the circumstances. It are the Khazâd who are able to look past his hair blacker than the canvas of night and his mood that seemed sometimes more terrible that of the Enemy, for they had awoken in darkness and had themselves too forsworn and cast out their kin in times previous. It helps that they are not too fond of the Eldarin people in general.

They resolve not to speak of such matters any further, and the subject is not breached again. Caranthir often visits the great cities of Belegost and Nogrod; and in those years when he remains in Thargelion, the Dwarf-Lords come to visit him. It is on one such meeting - political as well as informal - that the topic of Humans comes up. Caranthir learns they have crossed the Ered Luin, and in exchange for a lowering of import taxes he promises to keep an eye on them. And he does, but always from a distance; it is many years yet before the mortals become aware of him and his host, and only because Morgoth’s creatures force his hand.

Humans are interesting, in a distant sort of way, and Caranthir loathes having his interests snatched away. So he steps in, with a small company of riders, and they annihilate the band of Orcs. The only humans still alive are females and children; he does not ask where the men are. Instead he calls for their leader and one woman steps forward, sword still in her hand and a carefully neutral expression on her face. Physically, she is no different from any of the other women that had been fighting for their very lives, but in her eyes burns a fire of determination, and Caranthir can see she is a born leader. Proud and fearless, but at the same time willing to sacrifice herself for her people, she is a marvel. When he looks around more attentively, he can see the other mortals look up to her, trusting her with their fate.

He asks her name and their purpose in his lands and she answers. Her speech is affected and the Sindarin words come in stutters, but she does not seem embarrassed in the slightest and he waits patiently until she has finished speaking. Her name is Haleth, and he scans the Sindarin language but can find no immediate meaning. They have come from over the mountains, having heard of prosperity in Beleriand, and Caranthir laughs at her naivety. She looks offended and he takes pity on her and explains. Morgoth has poisoned their lands, and they fight a losing battle against a foe they have no chance to defeat.

She snorts, the sound positively unattractive, and laughs in his face. She says they have not tried hard enough, and turns away to organize her own people after the slaughter that has only just finished.

Caranthir stares at her for a moment. He imagines her a general, and the position does her justice. Through the survivors he moves towards her, but holds back until she has finished giving orders. Underneath the stutter in her speech her voice is deep and powerful and not at all unpleasant to listen to. Caranthir understands why she is the mortals’ chosen leader. He calls her name and she looks over her shoulder, irritated, as if he’s disturbed her during an important task. He speaks without thought, offers her people a place to stay, to live and to rebuild, and her a position in his army. For a moment she is silent, and he can see she is mulling over his sudden proposition. But then she shakes her head, and says she shall not be in anyone’s service and turns back to the women awaiting her directions. Caranthir is left standing, but cannot help the smile on his face.

He likes Haleth, and though their acquaintance was but short, he shall miss her when she leaves. He thinks he might as well have proposed her to marry him, for he can see the chance she accepts to become his wife is marginally larger than her becoming his general.

She leaves a few days later, after all wounds are dressed and the dead buried. Caranthir learns she has lost both father and brother in battle, and personally oversees the construction of their graves. She does not turn back for a final goodbye; but then again, from what he’s learned of her Caranthir doesn’t expect her to.

From that moment he is more courteous to Humans, although his eyes darken whenever he meets with the mortals that eventually settle his lands. They alack the quiet confidence of Haleth and quiver before his appearance. Rumors naming him the Dark soon return in full force.

When his brother calls for a united front against the Enemy, Caranthir answers and gathers his forces. He has a bad feeling about the mortals in his lands, but he remembers Haleth and forces the dark thoughts away. The current leader of the Haladin is called Ulfang and lives on the border with Makalaurë’s lands. Caranthir grants him the right to lead the mortals in the upcoming battle. Not general, as he’d so readily offered Haleth, but an important rank nonetheless. He talks about it with the Lords of the Khazâd, but they are unable to give him sound council. He catches himself wishing for Haleth’s company, her broken but deep voice and the fire in her eyes. But that is neither here nor there, and time goes fast; she must have either deceased or appear grey and fragile in the way that age mercilessly treats mortals.

Caranthir rides out at the head of his army, dark hair flowing like a banner in the wind. The pointed star shines bright on his armor and the sun glints off the metal. His face is serious; but in his eyes a spark of something darker has ignited. He smells blood in the future; this battle will not end well. But he keeps these premonitions private when he meets with his brothers, for he does not wish to crush their hope.

When Ulfang turns against them Caranthir knows the battle is lost. He does what he can to protect his people but the betrayal runs too deep to turn the tide. In the end they are forced to retreat with heavy losses, but Caranthir knows the satisfaction of decapitating Ulfang the Black. It is but a meager consolation; but Caranthir will take what he can get.

Chapter End Notes

Casari is a Quenya name for Khazâd, the Dwarves.